


From Winter, Light

by 00QEros (Dassandre)



Series: Every Hundredth of a Second [1]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fanart, M/M, Reflection, Self-Reflection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-05-01 02:52:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14510931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dassandre/pseuds/00QEros
Summary: James muses on his Quartermaster.





	From Winter, Light

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AsheTarasovich (natalieashe)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/natalieashe/gifts), [Tezuka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tezuka/gifts).



> My thanks to Anahi for her lovely photo compilation that inspired this work. 
> 
>  
> 
> Unbetaed and un-Brit-picked. The errors are mine.

 

 By Anahi

 

* * *

 

 

This.

This right here, James thought.  The first feeble rays of a winter morning peeked through the blackout curtains they had failed to pull fully shut the night before, collapsing to the mattress, each too exhausted from this last mission for more than a kiss and a cuddle.

The sunlight spilled over Q’s bare shoulder, accentuating the planes of his face while leaving the curves in shadow.

Q slept as he always did, without a pillow, his face sunk into the mattress as though a part of it.   Did he look younger as they said all people did when they slept? Perhaps. The lines that had taken up residence at the corners of his eyes in recent years smoothed out a bit.  Though the few strands of silver coming in at his temples were more noticeable when his hair was tossed about by sleep.

More innocent?  Not bloody likely.   James knew too many of Q’s secrets for there to be even the illusion of innocence, though his honor was incorruptible.  

Untroubled.  Serene.

At peace.

James knew that if Q were to open his eyes now, he would chastise James for the adoring look he wore.  

He did adore Q.

He was under no delusions.  Q could be a hard man. Cold, calculating, and determined in a way that at times made the entire cadre of Double-Os look like the members of a WI chapter. He could, would, and _had_ killed countless times: his recorded kills numbering in the upper hundreds.  He was the most deadly agent in the whole of MI6: Death embodied in a jumper-wearing, brogue-shod, Earl Grey-steeped boffin with a penchant for sushi and late-night telly.

Most didn’t realise it, of course, for Q was amiable, cordial, and even warm with those he respected. His jokes fell flat and his puns were so obscure they required a Google search to twig to their meaning. Still awkward as hell at times, too, though much of that, James knew, was an affectation.  

Camouflage.  

The guise the Quartermaster wore for everyone save James Bond.

And he had.

Saved James Bond.

In dozens of tangible ways and in hundreds of others he could not explain, Q had saved him.

No.  That wasn’t right.

Q had _reclaimed_ him.

He was far from perfect.  At times more obstinate than Thatcher, Q had a temper and a self-righteous streak as wide as the Thames, but he was loyal and unflappable and tenacious to the point of obsession.   In their private life, James and he fought hard and loved even harder.

Q gave James not just a reason to come home, but a new purpose when his had died alongside M.  James now believed that he wasn’t just defending the Crown and the people when he went into the field; he wasn’t just a resource to be used and discarded when his usefulness had dried to nothing.

He wasn’t just fighting for the future of others anymore.

Because of Q,  James was fighting for his own.

**Author's Note:**

> Short and sweet. I hope you liked it. Let me know if you did. :)


End file.
